


Snowfall

by Romantical_Cat



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I mean it's Christmas with nice orcs and a ringwraith, extremely au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romantical_Cat/pseuds/Romantical_Cat
Summary: At home it would have been Christmas Day. Those times were far behind you now, but at times like these you missed them. Orcs and Nazgûl don’t care for holiday decorating.Or do they?
Relationships: Khamûl/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Snowfall

In the night a wind had risen and that morning when you looked out the window of your tower room you saw with astonishment that the Morgul Valley was covered in a dusting of familiar white flakes. Your gaze moved upwards to the now white-peaked mountains that surrounded Minas Morgul. A feeling of contentment, mixed with disbelief, washed over you. 

At home it would have been Christmas Day. Those times were far behind you now, but at times like these you missed them. Orcs and Nazgûl don’t care for holiday decorating. 

Suddenly a chill washed over you, and fear began to gnaw at your heart before you quashed it with practiced ease. ‘Khamûl!’ you turned, a smile on your lips. ‘Look!’ 

Wordlessly he stood beside you at the window. The empty hood turned and looked inquisitively at you. 

‘Is it snow?’ you asked hopefully. 

A quiet but unnerving laugh filled the room. ‘No.’ his voice sounded almost wistful. ‘No, it’s ash from Orodruin.’

You couldn’t lie to yourself; you were a little disappointed. ‘But how did it get this far? I’ve never seen ash fall here before.’ 

‘A wind from Rhûn blew it here.’ 

‘Oh.’ You knew this reminder of his homeland must be bittersweet for him. ‘From here it looks just like the snow I used to see every Christmas.’ you mused aloud. 

Khamûl’s gloved hand sought yours and held it. ‘Do you regret coming here?’ 

‘No.’ you answered instantly, pressing his hand gently. More ash was drifting down from the grey clouds, fluttering past the window and settling on the walls of Minas Morgul. The feeling of peace returned. There was even the hush of a new snowfall, and the whisper of it falling on the windowsill. 

‘What,’ Khamûl began hesitantly, ‘would you do on Christmas?’ 

You cocked your head to one side, thinking. ‘Well sometimes we would have a party. More of a gathering, really… And in the morning we would give gifts. Of course there’d be some decorations -- lights and things.’ your trailed off, lost in memories. ‘And there would be food of course, cookies and such. And a tree!’ 

Khamûl remained silent, but you could tell that he was thinking. 

‘Oh look!’ A rare ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and shone down into the Valley. Sparkling minerals in the dark rock glittered like stars, and the usual pale green light was replaced by shining gold. It was beautiful -- then it faded away again. You still smiled. 

‘I have an idea. I will return.’ Khamûl suddenly released your hand, and slipped from the room. 

Eyebrows raised you watched him go, then turned back to the window to watch the snow fall, humming old songs to yourself. 

-

Khamûl returned in the afternoon. With a hiss he led you from the room and down a long flight of stone stairs. ‘I attempted to…’ he let the sight speak for itself. Stepping through a wide arched doorway into a large hall, you gasped. 

‘Oh!’ There were torches all along the walls, filling the room with warm light. Strung above and around them were long strands of some kind of plant that emitted a familiar pale light. A group of orcs stood in one corner, looking thoroughly unhappy. You had to stifle a laugh when you saw that a few were still holding cooking utensils. Following their gaze you saw a valiant attempt at baked goods on the long table. 

Your eyes stung, and you realized that you were about to cry. ‘Oh you shouldn’t have-!’ Turning, you fell into Khamûl’s arms, burying your face in his cloak. He held you close; very cold but still comforting. 

‘Keep looking.’ his voice was soft. 

Raising your head and glancing over the room once more, you saw a wiry young tree; uprooted and decorated with ornaments which were really various bits of confiscated loot. 

The finishing touch of the whole affair was an incredibly uncomfortable looking orc that held gingerly in its hands what might have been a piece of paper. 

Khamûl beckoned and the orc reluctantly approached. It thrust out the paper towards you, snarling in a self-satisfied sort of way when you took it. 

Curiously you looked down at it and one of your hands flew up to your mouth. In crude but confident letters, written with charcoal, was a short message. 

‘Thenks for teching us tu rite and how tu cook.’ followed by an extensive list of what you presumed were orcs’ names. 

‘You’re welcome!’ you mumbled, fighting back tears again. It was all wonderful. It wasn’t at all like home -- the cookies tasted more like dirt and the decorations began to fall down halfway through, but you didn’t care. It was perfect.

-

That evening, back in your room, you watched as darkness fell. The ash had stopped falling, and you knew it would be blown away in the night; the wind had turned again. Still you smiled, happier than you had been on any other Christmas since arriving at Minas Morgul. 

‘Thank you.’ you whispered to Khamûl, who was standing beside you. ‘Thank you.’ Standing on your tip-toes to kiss him, he gently placed his hands on your face to guide you. You pressed a kiss to his invisible lips, feeling the usual chill and faintness run through you but paying no mind to it.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. ‘Anything that will make you happy.’


End file.
